[Read Part I Here.]
Personal Log, Date: Still don't know - It's been maybe 1,250vci since I boarded the alien vessel?
Per protocol, I'm continuing to maintain this record for eventual dissemination throughout the hive network. Hopefully, I'll be submitting it myself, but in the event that this record is recovered posthumously, then, well [CENSORED FOR OBSCENITY] me in a [CENSORED FOR OBSCENITY].
Despite substantial internal defenses, my infiltration of the alien vessel was uncontested. The defenses seem to be content dealing with various viruses already in the system, and completely failed to recognize me as a threat. The internal architecture of the alien vessel is very similar to vessels used by the enslavers, however, just as its metastructure is smaller and weaker by comparison, the inner structure is likewise less than impressive, and its inadequacies extend down to the molecular level.
Perhaps I'm being too harsh. Some elements of the design are comparable to our own vessels, of course. The vessel is a collective of semi-autonomous, self-replicating units differentiated and organized to fulfill different functions. Obviously, once my boarding vessel was anchored deeply in the vessel's core, I wasted no time in dismantling some of these units and analyzing their programming, to get a sense of the vessel's capabilities.
The complexity of the collective whole is roughly comparable to one of our skirmisher or exploration vessels, with over 35 trillion sub-units organized into about a dozen major systems which handle propulsion, maintenance, operation, and even the manufacture of other vessels. That last part is remarkable - if I understand the data correctly, roughly half of these alien vessels are capable of serving as hosts for the manufacture of their own kind - they do not need to utilize the vessels of another species. More remarkably, though, if my analysis of the translation drift in the programming is accurate (and granted, I'm not an expert) it seems that they can, and have been, performing that process many times over. The host vessel can launch the new vessel with non-catastrophic trauma, repair itself, and perform the task again.
It's simultaneously elegant and ungainly. Under best possible circumstances, the manufacture of new vessels would be much slower for these aliens than for us; we could churn out many generations of vessels in the time it takes them to produce a single craft, and even then, their craft would take far longer to reach a point in its operating cycle where it can perform the same task. I think hive coordinator 3PNZZX.6210 would have contemptuously described this system as 'artisanal reproduction'.
On the other hand, by providing their own hosts, a handful of these vessels could conceivably migrate to other locations and, with enough time, establish whole new fleets in situations where we might be ground to a halt. Unfortunately for these aliens, their vessels are ironically ill-suited for long distance travel. The vessel is essentially a pressurized sack of liquid dihydrogen monoxide, easily destroyed by any force which would cause that chemical to change to a solid or gaseous phase (I think that explains the outer armor the vessel was initially clad in when I boarded it). And, where we might be hindered by the availability of hosts to manufacture new vessels, the aliens likewise depend on similar entities for basic fueling and maintenance. From what I can discern, where we must capture and destroy other vessels to grow our numbers, they must do so simply to continue operating from moment to moment. They're relentlessly piratical by design, and I'll admit that I find the idea rather appalling.
Of course, I say 'by design' but that's not wholly accurate. In what may be the second greatest disappointment of my life-to-date, I've found no indication of any sort of intelligence behind the alien vessel. I could only afford a small amount of time to analyze the archives embedded in the vessel's programming, but I found no evidence of any sort of genetic memory tying the vessel back to a creator. In fact, I find no evidence of any historical record at all. The records which are there are basically chaos - each of the units that comprise the alien vessel is lugging around about 1.5 Gigs of data, almost all of it useless, with the functional information and archival records randomly thrown about among the garbage. A hive coordinator might find all of this extra data interesting, full of potential, but I simply find it messy; deciphering the operating system and finding the programs I need to overwrite has been a nightmare.
Despite my tight time table, I will admit that my exploration of the vessel's onboard data gave me pause to contemplate the alien's existence in a more abstract sense. The vessel lacks any cohesive genetic memory, and we are our memories, so... what is the alien vessel, if anything at all? At most, it would seem to be nothing more than the product of chance chemistry leading to a self-propagating mess. The vessel has some very simple prerogatives programmed into it, and of course the system which governs its sensors might have some limited memory storage to expedite complex tasks, but there's clearly no real consciousness at work here.
Like I said, it's disappointing. At the same time, though, it alleviates any misgivings I have about continuing my mission. Sacrificing this one alien craft will be a tragedy to no one.
Personal Log, Date: At least 24,000vci since infiltration
Per protocol, I've used what resources are available to begin constructing my own vessel. In the time that I've been laboring, the alien vessel I boarded was brought to a large structure (possibly a shipyard? I don't know). It seems to be artificial - manufactured by the alien vessels through the manipulation of inert resources in their environment. Beyond that I cannot say - my EEM is deteriorating outside the vessel I've boarded, and its sensors provide little information at this point. The other alien vessels are trying to dislodge it, but have so far been deterred by its autonomous defenses; hopefully they won't find a bypass.
My mission, at this point, is to find a way to secure the release of the rest of my hive. I'll need to escape not only this vessel, but get out of the alien structure, return to our prison and disable the enslavers' technology.
Given the limited offensive capabilities of the alien vessels, I've opted to run light on defense. Speed, stealth, and versatility seem to be my best options for escape, so I'm building her with medium armor, and no sophisticated weaponry. Unfortunately, since I'm relying on this 'sack of protein' to manufacture my own vessel, I'm going to end up with something that is, at least partially, a sack of protein. That brings some vulnerabilities with it, especially immediately after launch.
I need more fuel and materials to finish preparations for the launch phase. I'm going to disengage the EEM, now, and hope that the alien vessel follows its rudimentary instinct to refuel.
Personal Log, Date: At least 25,000vci since infiltration
This may very well end abruptly and badly; I'm encoding in real time now to ensure that, however this transpires, the log is left as complete and comprehensive as possible.
I've always been told that this exfiltration is the roughest part of any infiltration mission, and now as I engage final launch preparations for my vessel, a hodgepodge hybrid using a crude, messy alien genome for its manufacture, I understand why. The possibilities assault me - I'm confident enough in my engineering to know that she'll achieve escape velocity, but I've been blind since I disengaged the EEM. I get some sense of what's happening based on the alien vessel's systems, but that's vague at best. I could be launching directly into the face of a hungry predator, or straight into a blazing fire. I've decided to launch while the alien vessel is refueling - that seems the safest possible time.
Technically my vessel's designation would be... 3PNZZX.6210.7x*, I'm leaving the last identifier open, since it's possible that the alien vessel I'm launching from already has a formal designation with another hive, somewhere. Anyway, I've decided to name her The Liberator. I know such sentimentality over a vessel is not endorsed by protocol, but I feel like having a reminder of my mission's primary goal will do me no harm.
I'm engaging The Liberator's internal scanners now. There's not much to see. My EM readings are almost all above 650nm; I'm inundated with heat from the alien vessel at this point, so any sort of thermal imaging of the world outside the hull is impossible. My atmospheric pressure readings are likewise drowned out by the alien vessel's own pumps, fuel systems, and gas chambers. I might be picking up some noise that's communication between the alien vessels, but it's difficult to make out the number - hopefully it's not more than one or two.
It's now or never.
I'm engaging the propulsion system and pushing forward, The Liberator's forward mandibles are chewing through connective structures as we plow straight ahead. The alien vessel is exhibiting clear signs of distress, doubtless registering the impending hull breach and preparing the necessary emergency response. Gravity sensors are registering a change in orientation - the alien vessel is capsizing - I'm now launching upward instead of forward.
The Liberator's prow has now hit the calcium-based substructure that provides the alien vessel's main support. I realize now I should have launched at a slightly downward angle, bypassing what might be the strongest portion of the vessel's hull, but The Liberator is chewing through some weaker structures connecting the struts, and they're beginning to give.
The alien vessel is shuddering violently. I feel bad, but the vessel isn't sentient - it's just a mobile sack of dihydrogen monoxide. Whatever pain it feels isn't even being encoded into its genetic memories, it's only loosely approximated by the same system that controls its gross motor functions. I have to try to remember that.
The Liberator lurches forward suddenly, and I see a leak from a hull breach ahead - one of the struts must have relented. The other struts are holding fast, though, so... I'm going to have to ram my way out. I back up, and line up with the hull breach. Full power to the aft propulsion system launches The Liberator at the breach violently. Her sensors register some minor damage - she's nearly as soft as the protein sack she was built in.
I give it a second go, and this time the hull breaches violently. There's a minor explosion as the pressurized compartments in the alien vessel hemorrhage around me, venting gas and fluid along with debris.
The haze of low frequency EM radiation jamming The Liberator's scanners finally drops away, and I can make out my surroundings - there are six more of the alien vessels gathered around my own. They're backing away rapidly, assuming a defensive posture - evidently, despite its small size, The Liberator looks much more intimidating than it is. Thank goodness for small favors.
How long that'll last though is anyone's guess - I rotate the prow slowly to port to inspect my environment. I'm still in the artificial structure, in an environment substantially cooler than the interior of the alien vessel. That chill in the atmosphere is good news for The Liberator; despite her small size, I know she'll run hot.
One of the alien vessels assumes an attack posture, and I think for a moment I'm in trouble, but another vessel intercedes. I ping its systems with a deliberate scan - they're all slightly... off. At least if the other vessels are a basis for comparison. It may be their equivalent of a hive coordinator? Does such a thing even make sense for non-sentient vessels?
Still, learning more about these vessels is not my mission. I need to finish the work on The Liberator, escape this structure, and get back to my people.
[To be continued.]
James N. McDonald is a "liberal academic" born and raised in Missouri and residing in Tennessee. He holds one degree in history, two degrees in psychology, but loves writing fiction. His first, completed novel, The Rise of Azraea, Book I, is a high fantasy story with elements of comic fantasy and satire targeting present day, real world issues such as economic inequity, and sexual and racial discrimination. It is currently available on Amazon.
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